And What If I Can't?
by samtanas
Summary: HBIC Santana Lopez wasn't supposed to have feelings in the first place, and Quinn didn't even want to think about feeling feelings. But when they met each other, it wasn't a choice.  Bad summary.
1. Lucy Fabray Strikes Again

**A/N: I don't own Glee. But I do own a few characters in this story.**

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><p>AN: In this fic, no one in glee club knows each other.

Chapter One; Lucy Fabray Strikes Again

Quinn Fabray uncomfortably shifted in her chair and fidgeted with papers on her lap and sighed. One day. One day until school was over for three months straight. It was about time. School was a complete and utter drag. Although Quinn was blonde and _pretty. _But with all that she was still one of the few lonely people. It was odd, how all the nerds fit in somewhere, yet Quinn was simply lost.

"Need some help with that?" a popular guy said, and Quinn was unsure whether he was being sincere or rudely torturing the lonely girl. The look in his eyes left Quinn confused whether he was teasing or not. He half-smiled and gestured toward her books and papers.

"I'm fine," Quinn muttered. She was positively fine, she was okay being lonely. Sure, she'd rather be in a relationship and have a group of friends, preferably four, like in the movies and have her partner give her flowers and chocolates on Valentine's day and kiss her and hug her… but she wouldn't risk humiliation for something that was probably impossible.

"You're Lucy, right? Fabray?" he said. He was obviously clueless enough to be unaware that she preferred to be called Quinn rather than Lucy. 'Lucy' was a past she didn't often like to explore. "I'm Ben."

"So I've heard," Quinn said monotonously. "I go by Quinn, for your information."

Ben nodded. "So I've heard. Personally, I think you look like a Lucy."

Was that an insult? Or did he honestly think Lucy was a proper name? Or did he think Lucy was a dorky name to match Quinn's dorky personality and looks? "I don't care what you think," Quinn mumbled in annoyance. It was slightly true. She tried to forget what others thought because, at the end of the day it didn't matter. Because nobody talked to her.

"Nothing I'd put past you," Ben raised his eyebrows. And what the hell was that supposed to mean, exactly?

"Excuse me?" Quinn cringed in disgust at Ben's narcissism and overall annoying, disgusting personality. She could hardly believe she'd even bothered talking to him. Of all people.

"Nothing."

"Whatever you say," Quinn rolled her eyes.

After the bell rang, Quinn felt a twinge of relief. That was, until, she got death glares from the popular crowd on the way home. Angela Roland, a girl in her homeroom who was usually fairly generous to poor Quinn and was one of the few that actually called Quinn 'Quinn' instead of Lucy, analyzed her outfit and rolled her eyes. Quinn swore she heard her mumble, "What a dweeb." and her friend, Sydney Walters say, "She dresses like a grandmother. Her style is so…", finished off by the straight F student Lynn Rivers, "Home-schooled." That specific comment made Quinn assume she'd been home-schooled most her life with an unintelligent frog as her teacher.

If only Quinn's parents had enrolled her in a fun, crazy public school rather than a classy, formal, bitchy private school. Her parents had told her to feel lucky she wasn't required to wear a uniform. Lucky. What a perfect way to describe it, eh?

"Angela, Sydney, Lynn," Quinn announced with a fake devilish smile. "Got a problem with my outfit?"

"Well," Sydney began. "I don't necessarily have a problem with it, I just think it's ugly."

"Angela?" Quinn said, crunching her eyebrows as if to stick a question mark in the middle of the conversation.

"You and your outfit," Angela said shaking her head. "They match. So, good job with coordination, Lucy."

Quinn's jaw dropped. Soon enough all three were chanting 'Lucy Caboosey'. Exactly like at her old private school. She was sure after getting procedures it'd all stop. She could trust no one. She had to run away. Where to? It was unknown, but she couldn't take these bitches for a day more.

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><p>Quinn read the big sign as she pulled into a high school driveway. "Lima, Ohio." she smiled in relief. "Finally. I'm free." Who knew who she'd meet here? She might end up getting killed because she'd be living in her car and her parents didn't know about this but maybe she'd make friends at this dingy public school … "McKinley High" — and live with them! It was so exciting, being on her own. No Ben, or his hideous step-sister Sydney. No fakey Angela. No dumb ass Lynn. Just freedom and the kids at McKinley. Yet Quinn had no idea what she was in for.<p>

Lucy Caboosey no more. Right? Quinn Fabray. Quinny. Q. Queen Quinn. Queen Bee Q. It sounded so perfect. Quinn ran a finger through her soft, flawless blonde hair and finally turned off her car. Peace might not be so far away. Summer would begin and someone would notice her. If not? There were other places to go find peace. Her past was a good distance away.

Quinn sighed and smiled. This was it. This was peace.


	2. Thunder and Lightning

Chapter Two: Thunder & lightning doesn't make for a good drive home

Santana Lopez readjusted her super-short cheerleading skirt before exiting the building. School no more. Just summer. But sadly for Santana, tons of her friends would be taking vacations for two-thirds of their summers while Santana was stuck at home with only a couple friends. But through the semi-loneliness she'd still be flashing her picture-perfect shiny white teeth in a huge smile. After all, what she needed was her best friend. And her best friend, Colette Tyler, was still in Lima. All summer.

Summer sun. The beach. Or so she thought. Raindrops began pouring and harshly hitting the ground and both Colette and Santana rushed to Santana's car. As Colette climbed in the passenger seat, Santana noticed something unusual in the car beside her. It looked as if someone was in there - dead? Or sleeping? The person didn't look familiar. Colette glanced unknowingly towards Santana. Santana ignored the look and continued to analyze the red car. She blankly knocked roughly on the car window. The blonde's head popped up, looking frightened. She had green-hazel eyes and her blonde hair was a mess, but Santana could tell it was pretty long and that the girl was usually quite put-together.

The blonde rubbed her eyes as if she'd been sleeping all day and waking up was a tiring process. Santana wouldn't be surprised. The blonde blinked a few times, as if it had all been a dream. Somehow getting here, and waking up to a brunette cheerleader. When she saw Santana clearly and realized this was, yes, reality, her jaw dropped. How did she get here? Why? What the hell was going on? Both of them thought that one, and that was for sure.

"San," Colette sighed, not pleased with the delay to get home and begin summer. Who were they kidding? Who could begin summer in this downpour of rain?

"What the hell?" the blonde screamed. "Who are you? What's going on? Where am I?" But before the brunette replied, the memories started rushing back to the troubled teen. She was fed up with the bitches at her school so she drove away. She fell asleep at about 1:00 am, worried someone might find her. Finally, though, she fell asleep hopelessly, and now here she was. Two o'clock? Three o'clock? Waking up in her car in a public school parking lot to a ton of rain and a stranger.

"Um, what are you doing here? Do you even go here, Barbie?" Colette called from Santana's car, rolling her eyes in annoyance and shaking her light brown hair out of a tight ponytail.

"Col, I don't think she goes here. I don't think she belongs here. I don't know if she even knows why she's here. She looks - sleep deprived." Damn right I'm sleep deprived, Quinn thought after Santana spoke. Quinn was confused. The brunette was wearing a cheerleading uniform. Why would she be nice to some random, troubled teenager who may be in need of mental help or counseling.

"I don't go here," Quinn responded absently. "I r-ran away from home and ended up here, I guess. I don't really know. You don't need to talk to me, or listen to me for that matter. I'll be fine."

"You'll be fine? Living in a car? Please, get some help." Colette said heartlessly.

"Col, she won't be fine. Barbie, you're coming with us. Just follow my car on the drive home, okay, runaway? And why did you run away, might I ask?" Santana comforted her in addition to Colette's rude comment.

"I was just, fed up," Quinn began. "With people. At my school. Bitchy private school girls. And guys."

Colette rolled her eyes feeling absolutely no sympathy. Private school is a place in which you should automatically assume consists of mainly bitches. Bullied, a lot of people are. Just switch schools, you didn't have to run away, Colette thought. But apparently Santana felt a twinge of sympathy, which was highly strange and very unusual. Did Santana hit her head on the car door or something?

"I'm sorry," Santana smiled with sympathy. "My name is Santana," she gestured towards the unfriendly brown haired girl occupying the passenger seat. "And that's Colette."

"N-nice to meet you," Quinn stuttered desperately. "Sorry to be meeting under such tragic, or should I say pathetic, conditions. I'm not usually so pathetic, I promise..." she trailed off but realized she forgot one more thing after getting an annoyed look from Colette. "Oh, I'm Quinn." she did her best to smile genuinely, but she was too puzzled to manage any other emotion.

"Nice to meet you too, Quinn," Santana smiled, nudging Colette to say something nice and supportive. "I'd let you hitch a ride with us, but then what would you do with your car? I guess I'll see you at my house." Santana had no idea why she was saying such shit and being so nice and sympathetic. Being nice was not really normal of her. Colette could tell something was up. So could Santana, but neither of them knew what it was. At least Santana didn't.

"Are you sure? What will your parents think? You don't even know me, who are you and why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?" Quinn asked. Why would some random stranger invite pathetic Quinn to live in her house? Santana couldn't answer the question, because honestly she had no idea why she was feeling sympathetic. She was usually a total bitch, more feared than hated by all the losers in Lima. Colette and Santana absolutely ruled the school, and that wasn't going to change.

"You know what, Barbie, I have no idea," Santana said, raising her eyebrows, trying her best to change her voice from a sweet, comforting, unusual tone to her usual bitchy, rude tone. "And if I were you, I wouldn't push my luck."

Quinn bit her lip, confused by the stranger's moodiness. First she handled Quinn's pathetic story almost too carefully, saintly almost, and now she was acting like a whole different person. The kind of person who was perfect, and not impressed by the story of homeless runaway Barbie-doll Quinn. After a moment of silence, Quinn interrupted by saying, "Weren't we planning on leaving here someday?" Colette rolled her eyes as Santana flashed a half-smile in Quinn's directions and climbed into the driver's seat.

_Just follow her_, Quinn thought, adjusting her mirror and turning on the radio. She had no reason to, considering she thought half the music they played on the radio was utter shit. All she needed was to drown out the past and find a future. A future in a certain stranger's home, that is. Quinn's eyes were set on the road and the shiny car in front of her. She could make out Colette playing with her hair in front of a travel-sized mirror. Vain, much? Quinn was absolutely drowning in loneliness. She could hear the faint beat of the radio from the car and what sounded like it could be Santana's voice.

And then there was Quinn, all alone in her big car, her eyes on two happy best friends who were certainly not alone at all. The cars' speeds were increased, and Quinn wondered if this was a trick. If they were sending Quinn, not to Santana's house, but to some place far out in Ohio where she'd get kidnapped. By now, Quinn could hardly see the two ahead of her through the pouring rain. Was this how summers in Ohio were? Or was Mother Nature depressed since such a desperate girl came here? A voice in her head reminded her to forget. Everything. Angela who? Who ran away? Not her, that was for sure. She was where she belonged. She had to be.

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><p>The first house they came to was NOT Santana's, but Colette's. Santana gave a thumbs up to Quinn before calling out, "Almost there, Barbie girl!" Quinn nodded as if to accept her statement, although the nickname 'Barbie' hardly suited her. Barbie would never run away from home. Quinn couldn't help but notice how incredibly gigantic Colette's house was. It was as if it were a hotel, but Quinn knew that it wasn't. Surprise! Who would've guessed? Quinn barely knew that Colette was too rich to stay at a hotel. Wasn't she? She looked rich - the kind that could be a model, and if they couldn't? Daddy would pay to get a modeling career for his little princess.<p>

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><p>"Wah lah!" Santana called, climbing out of her parked car, throwing her arms out as if to present the house like a gift.<p>

"I think you mean voila," Quinn corrected, though in awe of the house. And not because it was gigantic, but because it was... small.

"Oh Barbie, not used to little, cozy houses?" Santana teased, escorting Quinn inside gently. "Welcome to the Lopez motel."

"More like cabin," Quinn joked, raising her eyebrows. "So where am I going to stay in my wonderful trip to the Lopez cabin, I mean, motel."

"Let's see," Santana said, placing a finger on her chin with a thoughtful look on her face. "Sorry Barbie, but this isn't a Barbie world. So I know exactly where you'll stay." Quinn smiled, as lightning lit up the sky. Oh what fun.


	3. Already Gone

**A/N: I don't own glee or anything mentioned in this. I know we've seen Santana's room but in this fic it's different :) And sorry it's so short, but short chapters means more chapters ... review if you want :D**

Quinn was strangely excited but also scared to see where she'd be staying. She couldn't tell whether Santana's smile was genuine or deviant, making her even more nervous. They were standing still near the door when a rush of wind came through sending a shiver up Quinn's spine.

"So," Quinn began impatiently. "Where am I going to stay? Let's not waste time. Cut to the chase," Quinn's bottom lip trembled as they desperately tried to think of a nickname for Santana that challenged 'Barbie'. "Brat."

"Fine," Santana said, before developing Quinn's last addition to the sentence. "Brat?"

"Yeah, you call me Barbie, so I call you by Barbie's biggest competitor," she explained as if she had committed a crime by calling Santana a brat. "Bratz."

"Are you crazy?" Santana asked seriously. She definitely didn't want to take any mental patients into her house to live. "What the _hell _are 'brats'?"

"B-R-A-T-Z," Quinn spelled for Santana. "Those dolls with the abnormally huge heads and tiny bodies?"

"Oh,'' Santana said, still clueless and taken aback by Quinn's outburst. "Still don't know what you mean, but no need to get mad over dollies, Barbie."

Quinn rolled her eyes, "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

"Yeah, yeah," Santana said, leading Quinn down the small hallway, in which she hated considering she was slightly claustrophobic. Suddenly Santana entered another room that was seemingly bigger than every other room in the house. The walls were painted a depressing black, the wood floors looking spectacularly shiny, and the flat screen television in the corner looking tragically unused. The oddest part was the dingy couch beside the hotel-esque king bed.

"Wow," Quinn said, intimidated by the size. How did it fit in the house? It was about the size of the rest of the house. Although it was huge, it didn't really have much room for Quinn. At least to sleep. The couch looked fairly uncomfortable, especially next to the grand bed.

Santana nodded and grinned her half-genuine, half-devious smile. Quinn should have known this was a bad idea - running away, staying with a stranger, what next, would she do drugs? Would Santana make her an alcoholic? She'd already had enough mistakes to last a lifetime.

"So," Santana began, smiling a bit more genuinely by now. "What do you think?"

"Where exactly will I sleep?" Quinn replied.

"Couch or floor. Your choice." Santana responded monotonously.

"Excuse me?" Quinn yelled back, raising her eyebrows in question. She _knew _it must be too good to be true.

"Where do you want to sleep?" Santana said back, her tone of voice shockingly calm. Quinn was still puzzled. It had to be too good to be true, or else Santana would have known that most normal people prefer to sleep on beds.

"A bed, maybe, like normal people," Quinn exclaimed. Before Santana could respond, she added, "I know I probably don't seem normal, but I'm normal enough to prefer the comfort of a sweet, soft bed at night rather than a goddamn hard wood floor."

"'Scuse me, Barbie," Santana snapped back, her tone of voice raising to her average bitch-level. "Where we are now? This is Lima Heights Adjacent. And around here, we don't have enough beds to host a hotel for little blondies."

"You're the one who said it was practically a motel. Listen, San-"

"No. You listen, this is my house and you should be lucky I invited you to live in it. If I wasn't a kind, generous person, you'd be out on the streets singing to save your life," she rolled her eyes in anger. "You think they make homeless Barbie dolls yet? If not, I'm sure you could design one!"

Tears slowly welled up in the blonde's eyes and she ran out. Why was it, everyone Quinn talked to was just, mean to her? Even people she trusted - her family, friends, boyfriends, everyone. Meanwhile, Santana was inside, pondering whether to run after her or forget her. Perhaps she was a little harsh, but wasn't everyone when they were mad? Santana crossed her arms tensely, humming a familiar melody in attempt to block out the noise of Quinn's car's engine running.

Santana hesitantly ran after her. She didn't even know herself anymore. Inviting a homeless stranger to live with her, and now practically forcing the stranger to stay? "Wait!" she called desperately. Quinn was still close enough that she could definitely hear Santana, especially as loud as Santana was. Quinn paused and bit her lip. She didn't have a clue what was going on, or what to do. Finally she turned around, her pride and independence hanging by a thread.

"What? What do you want, Santana?" Quinn said, biting back the tears that were ready to run down her face.

"I'm sorry," Santana sighed. People would probably describe her as the kind of girl who wouldn't exactly _apologize _after being mean. "I'm just a bitch. Nothing but a no good bitch. You'd be better of finding somebody else to host you in their house. I mean, I'm not calling off the offer but I can see why you'd hate me. Or something."

"I don't know, Santana, I mean," Quinn mumbled, still not knowing what to do. "I just don't know. I don't know what to do - I'm just so confused I can't process thoughts." Quinn bit her lip as she burst into tears. Memories of earlier years and tragic events of the past haunted her brain leaving her with no train of thought. She covered her face with her arms, embarrassed the Latina cheerleader was watching her break down.

"It's okay," Santana said, awkwardly hugging the crying blonde.


	4. Haunted

**A/N: I don't own Glee or anything else mentioned in this text. I know it's AU but Puck still exists. Santana just doesn't know him. But that's it. **

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><p>All of Quinn's secrets basically just spilled out in that moment. No one knew her secrets, not her parents, no one. They'd been bottled up for almost two years now. "I <em>have<em>," Quinn began, stumbling to pour the words out, drowned in her own tears. "A family." Her voice trembled as she said those words. Before Santana could respond, she continued. It wasn't exactly the family Santana assumed it was. "My _own _family." Santana's face fell from a supportive, comforting, melancholy smile to a worried, nearly disgusted frown. Quinn kept explaining, "I just wanted to b-be popular. I wanted guys to like me. So I was a slut. I was a fucking slut, Santana. And it got me nowhere but the hospital. To give birth to a baby. A baby, a damn baby."

"Quinn-"

"His name-" Quinn began through sobs. "I probably didn't even know his name at the time. I was disgusted with myself. My baby's name was Beth. His name was Noah. I bet you think I'm a freak now, being a teen mom and all. We gave it up for adoption."

"I disgust myself," Quinn sighed, wiping her tears with her sleeve.

"We all make mistakes," Santana shrugged sympathetically.

"I wish I could just start all over," Quinn added.

"You can. Here in Lima. I'll keep your secret and you can start fresh," Santana grinned genuinely. "With me. I'll find you a place to sleep - it won't be a problem anymore."

Quinn had never felt closer to anyone than she felt with Santana. Absentmindedly she leaned over and gently kissed Santana on the lips. Santana pulled away immediately as she realized what was going on. Her mood transformed from sympathetic and sweet to shocked and quite possibly incredibly freaked out.

"T-That was a mistake," Quinn explained quickly, her lips quivering. What had she done? That was all her thoughts could process - what the hell just happened?

"Was it?" Santana questioned, willingly jumping out of the passenger seat of Quinn's car to receive her own car from around the corner and drive back home.

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><p><em>AN: Have I said this before? Whether I did or not, short chapters mean more chapters. Sorry for the limited length. And I just really needed them to just kiss already. _


	5. I Know What I Want

**A/N: Don't own Glee, etc. I do own Colette, though. Reviews are appreciated :3**

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><p>Quinn had insisted her and Santana go somewhere and work this out. Basically, her plan was just to deny her new found 'feelings' for Santana. Although Santana assumed Quinn just wanted to kidnap her, she agreed. Therefore, now the two were seated on a bench in the park. Quinn usually thought silence was peaceful, but at the moment it was just awkward. "I'm sorry," Quinn blurted out.<p>

Santana sighed. "Why?" In response to the puzzled look on Quinn's face, she added, "Why did you _kiss _me?"

"I-I don't know," Quinn mumbled. "I thought you'd maybe kiss me back." She didn't know why. She'd really gone mad if she thought anyone could reciprocate those kinds of feelings. Especially a girl. Nonetheless _this _girl, who was _supposed_ to be the mean girl.

"I may be oddly nice today, but I'm not ... gay. Any day. How's this supposed to work if you have feelings that I can't feel back?"

"Why _can't _you feel those feelings back?" Quinn asked, immediately regretting letting her heart do the talking.

"Because I'm not supposed to," Santana whispered, thinking that even though her family had told her it wasn't right, she couldn't help but develop tiny crushes on girls. Possibly even Quinn.

"Who said that?" Quinn replied. Too many questions, she thought to herself, but ignoring her own head and waiting for a response.

Santana hesitated. "Parents. People." She checked her phone for some kind of excuse to get out of the conversation. Luckily, her phone vibrated. Colette wanted to go shopping. "It's Colette, she wants to hang out. Go ahead and go home and make yourself comfortable."

Santana left leaving Quinn with a blank and somewhat hurt look on her face. Maybe she wanted to go shopping too. But it'd be too much to ask, so she'd do what Santana had told her to.

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><p>"That'd look great on you, San!" Colette squealed, holding up a puffy, furry jacket and matching tight black jeans, which also had a little fluffy fur on the hem.<p>

Santana bit her lip and waved the animal of a jacket away. She still had enough sanity to know that outfit was _crazy_, and not in a good way. Santana did wear furry stuff a lot, but that was over the top. Though Santana was going insane about the kiss, she was still determined to get some good outfits.

Colette had several bags full to the top with clothes. Yet Santana only had one small bag full with a top Colette had persuaded her into buying. It was tight and striped and black and white and all in all adorable. Slightly expensive, but that was besides the point. The two friends did this every week. After practice, price wasn't a problem.

"San," Colette smirked while holding a mini dress in front of her. "You think this would make _someone _wanna kiss me?"

Santana had no idea who she was referring to, but it was obvious that she though Santana knew who. Waving away thoughts, she shrugged. Maybe if she knew who Colette was talking about she could answer that. The look on Colette's face told Santana she was begging for some kind of response.

"Make _who _wanna kiss you?" Santana asked, without a clue what Colette was hinting at.

Colette rolled her eyes. "Forget about it."

"Col," Santana frowned. "Tell me."

"I said forget it," she replied, a twinge of anger swelling in her lungs.

"I wants you to tell me," Santana demanded.

"Tana, you're so clueless," Colette giggled. Santana was furious that Colette knew something she didn't.

"About what?" Santana said, unamused.

"Okay, okay, joke's over," Colette began, still giggling a tiny bit. "Let's just forget I ever said anything, okay, Sannie? Just tell me - do you think that dress would look good on me?"

"Yeah, sure," Santana responded suspiciously. She was done with shopping, especially if Colette was going to tease her like that. But now she had two major things on her mind - the kiss and who Colette wanted to kiss. Santana reminded herself that she had a few groceries to pick up, and made Colette aware of this as well. At least at the grocery store Colette couldn't say things like that because it was impractical a carton of milk would make you look hot.

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><p>Quinn was seated gently on Santana's king bed, mindlessly flipping through channels on her television. Her phone was next to her, touching her knee. As she flipped to some documentary, the phone vibrated. One new text. From Santana, whom she exchanged numbers which pre-kiss.<p>

"Getting food and stuff. Want anything?"

Quinn did want something. Her mind flashed back to the days she got what she wanted. Post-Lucy, pre-pregnancy. If Queen bee Lucy Quinn Fabray wanted someone, she would've gotten it - whether it was a person or a drink, she got it. And she was determined to get what she wanted now too. She wanted a lot of things, but top on her this was Santana Lopez.


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